


Bittersweet Awakening

by Cysteine



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5270534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cysteine/pseuds/Cysteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My submission wasn't accepted for publication, so I've posted it here. Bookseller girl and her first time in a BDSM dungeon. Smutty and almost PWP. Lots of literary references.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bittersweet Awakening

“Enjoying your prurient novel, Genevieve?” My boss asks as I’m reading on my lunch break. It had been a dreadfully boring day as I was drinking an iced raspberry mocha with a copy of some kinky bodice-ripper that was supposedly historically accurate steam punk.

I already had to skip over three pages where the author went into exhaustive detail about the Pirate-Captain’s willy as the main character was giving out her first blowie ever.

“What makes you think I’d be into such drivel, Mr. Jameson?” I retort, hoping my hands are hiding the cover well enough. His eyebrow arched in a way that would have looked proper on Fitzwilliam Darcy.

“Your cheeks are pink.” Crap. He chuckled and walked away as I continued to read, enjoying bits and pieces of the sex as I did my best to ignore the fact that it was with a male character.

_...grabs her by the hair and pins her head down into the pillows, leaving her ass up in the air…_

_...wrists getting pulled behind her back and tied together, leaving her fully exposed and wet cunt dripping in need…_

_...feeling full as fingers thrust and curl with building pressure as she begins to crest..._

Putting the book down a bit too quickly, I use the receipt as a bookmark and decide to clock back in a bit early, tossing my latest novel into my locker before returning to the mind-numbing duty of re-alphabetizing the religious fiction section. Maybe I should look for lesbian stories after all; I keep trying to flip the pronouns for the assertive, dominant man too often to consider myself completely heterosexual.

It had been three months since I graduated from college and all I had to show for it was student debt and a broken engagement, all because my fiancé Marcus couldn’t handle the fact that I had drunkenly made out with a girl before we became official in my senior year. He expected me to relapse, as if ginger girls were some sort of an addiction like his drinking. Our families expected us to eventually notice each other, fall in love, and marry someday; I had believed that I was just being rebellious for the longest time.

The problem, however, was that I had more chemistry with Mr. Jameson than my ex-fiancé. Marcus was too kind, too simple-minded, and simply refused to be rough with me at all in bed. Maybe I had unrealistic expectations, but I thought that I should be with someone who could arouse my mind along with my body. Particularly if it involves me being tied up and spanked. Of course, when I had asked Marcus to spank me, he laughed my suggestion away and requested that I suck his cock as he watched football. I knew it was a paradox, an avowed feminist wanting to be tied up and spanked and fucked senseless, while rejecting her boyfriend’s flippant request for a blow job. But in the books it was enticing, reading about how the independent woman could be challenged and reduced to nothing more than the perfect, well-trained whore for the right person. Perhaps such dark fantasies where I could give up all control and seduced into complete submission are simply that - fantasy. Over the next two hours, I sorted books and pulled out the usual porno mag that always got stuffed in here like it was a bloody accident. As I took the magazine back to the information desk to be re-shelved in the proper area, I couldn’t help but look at the woman on the cover.

Or perhaps, I’m just too much of a lesbian after all.

“Genevieve, um, I’ll take that from here.” Mr. Jameson said, smirking somewhat.

“Of course, sir.” My face was redder than ever.

“Would you go and relieve Judith at the register so she may take her break?” I nodded politely and made my way there, avoiding eye contact with the blonde, stern assistant manager. She never seemed to say much to anyone, but I couldn’t help but think she held some sort of animosity towards me personally. I mean, there was the time I punched her son back when we were in middle school together. It was over a decade ago, but her boy was a complete asshole and deserved it.

When I finally left work, I was ready to get back into the story as I rode the tube home. The main character was, obviously, stereotypically naive about her own beauty and sexual nature, yet completely aroused when she loses her virginity inside a dungeon worthy of a certain fantasy show on American cable. It was all so very trite and overused, but isn’t that what we’ve come to expect from our smut?

I open the book to find that my receipt-bookmark had been replaced with a note card bearing an Oscar Wilde quote in impeccable cursive handwriting:

'You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.'

I knew Mr. Jameson’s tight, spiky handwriting ruled him out entirely, which I could only count as a blessing because I couldn’t see myself getting tied up or fucked by him. It could have been the seemingly innocuous sandy-haired Angelina who worked at the cafe, or the vampish Claudia from the music department whose slender frame, short skirts, and luxurious raven curls had distracted me many times while I was supposed to be working. I doubted that she had ever read The Portrait of Dorian Gray, however.

The opposite side had a location and time, as if a silent challenge for me to go attend. Was this someone’s personal address, or to one of those sex clubs? I wasn’t certain which of my co-workers wrote this, but for the curiosity of finding out who quoted Dorian Gray, I would have to attend.

I went home, showered, shaved, and was on my way in a very unassuming little black dress number, complete with patent black heels with a thin ankle strap that matched the choker tied around my neck. I understated the eyeliner so as to not be confused for a lost goth tourist searching for Camden town. The sun was setting behind me as I made my way towards the Thames, every step with my heels clacking my anticipation higher as I relied on the GPS in my mobile to get me to the right building as the London Eye towered above me.

I entered the door and found myself in a small room where a bouncer was asking for my identification. I handed them the card I was given and showed them that I had just turned twenty-two. The nondescript man smiled at the card as he looked me over, apparently deeming me worthy.

“She’s got good taste, love. Welcome to the Serpent’s Den.” He gestured for me to proceed through the door behind him, and I nodded my thanks.

Serpent’s Den? I was relieved that the author of the note was a woman, but other than that, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. The door was unusually thick and heavy as I opened it, and once I went through, I knew why. It was soundproofed.

Sultry music played over the speakers as I looked over the large room that seemed to be a renovated warehouse; there was a set of honest-to-god stocks, a rack, a medieval iron maiden that had the spikes removed, a few St. Andrew’s crosses, and… there was Mr. Jameson with a schoolgirl bent over a spanking bench.

_I knew he was my kind of pervert._

Huffing quickly, I gathered my resolve and made my way past him with a small wave as I found a settee and took in the rest of the area like a fly on the wall. Someone here gave me that note, and I was going to prove to them that I do have the courage to sin.

As I took in the other people here, I noticed that I have seriously overdressed for the occasion and find a dressing room, and gladly doff my dress and put it in a small locker along with my cell phone and purse. I was very glad that I wore my lacy black balconette bra with matching panties, and took a look at myself in the mirror. Tasteful makeup, average body with perky barely-b cup breasts, Lorde-level curly chestnut hair, and massive butterflies in my stomach hoping that Claudia was the one who switched out the receipt for the card in my book.

“Hello, I see your choker; does it mean you belong to someone?” I turn to see a stunning redhead in a skin-tight, black PVC outfit, and plunging neckline that pushed her breasts up like an offering to the Gods of old.

I smile nervously, trying to keep my eyes on her face, and notice emerald green eyes framed with just the right amount of freckles. “I um, uh… no. I do-don’t belong to anyone. Just uh, thought it looked nice.”

“I’m Lady Morgana, you must be new here.”

“Oh! From the legend of Merlin…” I mutter, hating the fact that I know my face is blushing. I nod that I am new, looking away from her and hoping the redness disappears quickly.

“What should I call you?” I need a pseudonym, don’t I?

“I haven’t really thought of a name, so… Lizzie.” I shrugged as I said it. Two of her fingers slipped under the choker, lifting my head and eyes to meet hers.

“What do you want to experience, Lizzie?” I gulped at that as my breath hitched, body tingling in anticipation for anything and everything.

“I um, think I’d like to be restrained and spanked, and then forced to-”

“-have you ever been with a woman?”

I shook my head as she brought her lips unbearably close to my own, a flash of pink as she licked her own lips in anticipation. Her voice dropped to a low and sultry tone that made me clench from her sheer will alone.

“You don’t seem repulsed by it. I believe you should try it, at least once. Get the itch scratched, as it were. See if that’s what you truly want or at least get this nervousness out of your system.” Her hand seemed to gesture at all of me, as if it were obvious that I were a bundle of tightly-wound nerves.

“Okay.”

She reached around and unhooked my bra with a quick pinch of her fingers. I instinctively hugged myself, futilely trying to keep myself covered as the shoulder straps slid down with ease.

“Leave that here, I might need access to your nipples.” I felt my panties grow wet at her command and, with only a bit of trepidation, placed the brassiere in the same locker as the dress.

“Arms down, be proud of your body, Lizzie.” I complied as I saw her eyes look me over in approval. Smiling down at me, she slipped her fingers back under the choker and pulled me out of the dressing room to follow her into the dungeon. There was something primal in the way that she lead me by the neck, and I couldn’t help but get turned on as I obediently followed her to a desk where there were conspicuously placed eye-bolts and a small suitcase filled with an array of toys and restraints visible.

“Give me your wrists.” I held my hands out for her and she began putting on velcro restraints and attached a carabiner between the D-rings that were sewn into place, effectively handcuffing me before making me bend over the table and locking my wrists onto the desk. I tugged at the restraints only to feel it not give at all as the carabiner held fast. I’m really restrained now. Next she lifted my chin slightly as a black satin sash was used to blindfold me. Her soft lips pressed the corner of my mouth and I shuddered, turning to try and face her better for the kiss as I wanted and needed contact with her.

“Patience, you wanton little thing.” Her hand connected sharply with my backside, making me yelp and squirm as I felt her fingers trail down my leg and affix velcro restraints on either ankle. This time, though, she clipped them separately and latched them in different directions, keeping my legs and knees apart and forcing me to be open and exposed to the cool dungeon air.

Panting, I turned my head and tried to hear a clue of what she was going to do next, but she was silent until her bare hand slapped my left butt cheek with a sharp smack, the thudded impact hitting me and the sensation translated into more arousal pooling in my nether region.

Another strike with her hand impacted against me, then another. Gradually she increased the strength of the impacts, and spread the hits about, hitting every inch of my bum and the top of my thighs. It was when she hit me with a firm leather strap that the sensation was more of a sting than anything, leaving me to gasping as I felt the moisture that had been building within me finally leak out and begin to run down my legs.

Embarrassment made me want to huddle up and pretend that it didn’t just happen as the paddle continued its onslaught. I began to feel like I was melting into the firm wooden table beneath me, my body and mind disconnecting from each other while a vague part of my mind knew that I was still having my ass smacked as fingers slapped my soaked yet covered cunt. I shuddered as her fingers circled and found my now firm nub of flesh that was begging to be spanked and rubbed until I screamed as I fought against the restraints that this strange women had put me in.

“How old are you, Lizzie?” She asks, using the paddle on the lower portion of my backside. Tingling sensations travel right to my quim and I shudder as I feel my muscles spasm and clench.

“Twenty-two.”

Another blow with the paddle, and I realize that my face is in a pool of my own drool. _Holy fuck, this is amazing._

“Is this the first time you’ve been aroused by a woman?”

“Yes.” The paddle hits again, and it hurts! “OW!”

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.”

“No… I, um, snogged a girl once.”

“Was she a friend, or co-worker?” Her hands cupped my warm and sensitive arse, massaging it and I welcomed the cool sensation of her fingers. I shook my cheeks at her, hoping she’d take mercy on my aching clitoris.

“Just some ginger I met at a club.”

“Oh, you like gingers, do you? She’ll be disappointed.”

“Who?” I asked, moaning as the paddle hit me right over my needy cunt.

“You are just soaking through your panties, aren’t you?” Her fingers mashed the lacy fabric between my folds and I whimpered as she refused to move or stimulate my sensitive spot with any friction. Instead, she spanked me with her hand, forcing moans of pleasure out of me as my breath hitched and I lost my last shred of dignity to her.

“Yes… please... frig…” I beg as I feel two gloved fingers pressed against my lips.

“Open, whore.” It seemed completely natural, if not instinctual, to obey her. _And getting called a whore by her was… actually arousing me more!_ I parted my lips and gave her fingers entry, eagerly sucking and lubricating her fingers so that they could go inside me.

As the gloved fingers explored my mouth and I eagerly worked my saliva around her knuckles, I became aware of a pair of hands begging to move the crotch part of my panties aside to expose me entirely to the open dungeon.

“Wha-” I spurt, trying to talk around the fingers that are now holding onto my jaw.

“You know that talking with your mouth full is a sin, don’t you?”

I freeze when I realize it’s a different voice. The fingers come out of my mouth and a hushed conversation continues, panic is rising within me. _Who is this? Claudia?_

“Who are you?” I asked, gulping down my panic. I feel those same fingers spank my vulva, maintaining the pressure as her fingers circle my clit, making me moan in desire.

“To define is to limit.” Oh god, she’s still quoting! “I am, however, glad you came.”

I nodded, craning my head around in hopes to get a slip of light in from the bottom of the blindfold. I decide to play her game, and reply with another quote. “The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”

Her covered fingers rested on my entrance, and tapped twice asking for entry. I rocked my hips backwards slightly allowing her fingers enter me, and I was rewarded with a slow and deliberate curl as she took a painstakingly slow rhythm inside.

“Oh, you’re learning… Lizzie, is it?”

“This is Claudia, right?” I inquire as my inner walls tighten around her firm ministrations. The fingers slid out and roughly spanked my vulva, making me cry out in a painful pleasure.

“I am tired of myself tonight. I would like to be someone else.”

Lady Morgana’s voice whispered into my ear as her fingers found and pinched my nipples, making me gasp in need. “She’s not Claudia, my dear Lizzie.”

“I’m…” I gulp, feeling the mysterious stranger add a third finger while she pounds into me, “not going to last-”

“Some things are more precious because they don’t last long.” She quotes, pressing her thumb directly on my clit while at the same time her three fingers workme until I couldn’t hold back any longer and I found myself begging for release.

“May I please… please come?” My hands shook and I could feel the carabiner clip rattle against the eyebolt when I heard her give permission, leaving me to shudder and spasm as I released myself and came screaming in the dungeon.

When I was coming back into myself, I felt my wrists being unclipped from the table as well as my ankles. The two women helped me up and let me shamble over to where a sofa must have been. I was curled up on the sofa with a hand stroking my hair and back as I curled my feet up and rested my head on her shoulder.

“Thank you.” I said, uncertain if I could reach out and touch her.

Soft lips pressed against mine and I gratefully kissed her back. I knew by smell that this couldn’t be Claudia after all.

“Let nothing be lost upon you. Be always searching for new sensations. Be afraid of nothing.” I smiled as she quoted Oscar Wilde again, and I had to wonder if she were someone else entirely. Nobody where I worked knew classic literature this well.

“Can we do this again? I really enjoyed… everything.”

“You really enjoyed getting used by me for your own pleasure.” I nodded at that. “Now let’s see if you enjoy getting used to please someone else. Get down on your knees.”

I complied, carefully balancing myself as my wrists were still tethered together as I realized what she wanted from me. My hands were between her thighs as I heard a skirt being raised up and my head directed to perform cunnilingus upon her. Her scent was complex and warm, and my fingertips and nose could tell she had been wet for some time as I parted my lips and tentatively extended the tip of my tongue to her nexus.

As I tasted her clitoris, some tension I had within me finally dissipated as this just felt… right. I seized her clitoris and the hood with my lips and sucked on it, letting her firm nub run over my teeth as my tongue flicked over it.

“Oh, you good girl, keep going.”

I couldn’t help but feel proud as she called me a good girl and I worked even harder to observe her reactions and please her the best I could with my mouth as I struggled to get my middle two fingers of my right hand to go inside her vagina to fuck her as she did to me.

She was very wet, and I lapped it up as I got my fingers inside her and felt her roll her pelvis in order to let me get inside her even more. My chin was buried in my palm as I worked hard to drill my two fingers inside her as I licked and sucked her as her moaning got louder, and I realized that Lady Morgana’s hands were on my head directing me as the stranger who fucked me was rocking her hips as she was about to orgasm. The other pair of hands clasped my head and buried my mouth into her quim as she moaned appreciatively and I knew I wanted to finish her this way, to have the claim that I was able to get a woman off all on my own.

Her thighs quivered and squeezed my head, nearly cutting off my air for a second, making me gasp and suck harder as I had to gasp for air between her legs. Her moaning quickened and soon enough she came, body going limp as I slowed my rhythm on her as she giggled and ordered me to stop finally.

I just ate out a woman until she came. And I liked it. The legs on either side of my head shifted, and I moved back to let her get up, wondering what would be next.

“Thank you, Lady Morgana. This was quite the treat.” I heard a kissing noise before she apparently went away.

“Wait… who are you?” I felt a wave of sadness hit me as I wondered if I would ever figure out who she was, or see her again. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“No, Lizzie. Don’t get attached.” I felt her hand caress my cheek before she kissed me again, and I could tell she was savoring her own taste on my mouth as she pulled away. “I don’t want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.”

I understood her final quote from Oscar Wilde. This would be a one-night thing; nothing more. I moved my hands to undo the blindfold so I could at least see her before she left, but Morgana’s hands upon my own stopped me.

“It’s for the best, Lizzie. Would you like me to fuck your cunt until you come again?”

I nodded at the offer and orgasmed twice more that night before leaving on the underground and wondering who the mysterious woman was.

It wasn’t until a week later at work that I had the courage to approach Angelina finally and make an obscure reference to Oscar Wilde. She did, of course, pretend to not know much about it.

“Come on, you didn’t enjoy the Portrait of Dorian Gray?”

She shrugged at that. “Sorry, I’m not into art.”

Okay, that’s disappointing. It left me at square one, completely lost as I surveyed the bookstore and rolled my eyes at Damien having coffee with his mother Judith Millner. For some reason, Mr. Jameson seemed to take pity on the Millners after the father left the family to be with some college-aged floozy, but Judith was a good assistant manager here.

“Genevieve, I do not pay you to gander at your co-workers, as attractive as they might be.” I turn to see my boss at the information desk and chortle at that.

“I daresay she’s too old to fit your type, ‘Professor’.” I reply cheekily as I gather up a stack of books for reshelving.

“So you don’t deny you favor the fairer sex?” His sotto voice cooed, making me spill the paperpacks in my hands.

“I- I never said-” I sputtered, lost for words.

“Neither did she, but I find the cat-and-mouse game you two are playing as... quite pedantic.”

“You mean to say she- Judith is…?” My eyes widened and I nodded as if to say ‘the one who did the horribly wonderful things to my vagina in the dungeon’.

“Obviously. Now go do something to wipe that god-awful smirk off of her son’s face. He needs to be taken down a peg or two.”

I stood there, stunned at the revelation. Judith Millner, Damien’s mother. We fucked each other pretty well, as I recall. Armed with this knowledge, I made my way over there and realized her cold and taciturn manner had only been with me for months now and it was like the penny dropped. She wasn’t being mean, she was being cautious.

“May I help you, Genevieve?” Judith asked politely. Her now familiar voice struck deep in me and I had to work to keep myself composed.

“I wanted to have a word, in private.” My eyes went to Damien and gave him a piss off look.

“Hey bitch, fuck off. We’re talking right now.”

“Damien, there’s no need for such language.” Judith chastised her son. “I apologize for his crude language.”

“Don’t, I’m certain he learned it from his father. Damien, shut your cock-holster before I punch you a second time.” As I had calculated, his jaw hit the floor.

“Kiss your mother with that mouth?” He sniped petulantly.

“No. Yours.”

He balked at the two of us, shook his head in disbelief, and stomped away. I took his seat and saw Judith’s posture change in various subtle but meaningful ways.

“So you’re a fan of Oscar Wilde.” I whispered conspiratorially.

She steepled her hands in front of her face, forcing my eyes to glance as I swallowed a building lump in my throat. “And you of Jane Austen.”


End file.
